Out of the Blue
by Shoshana aka Faye Faye
Summary: It's a week after the showdown between Spike & Vicious, and Jet's gut is telling him Spike is alive. Faye disagrees, but that doesn't stop Jet from searching for Spike. His search leads Jet to a bar where the owner, a lovely grey-eyed, black hair beauty
1. Part 1 Building a Mystery

The characters Spike Spiegel, Jet Black, Faye Valentine, Edward Wong, Ein, Antonio, Carlos, & Jobin are creations from the Cowboy Bebop TV series and movie. They do not belong to me.

The characters Dr. Billie Vaughn, Margaret Jones, Seymour (a.k.a. Ferret- face), Alexander 'Randy' Vanderhorn, Argo Kuzmin, Biko, & Police Detective Booker are my creations.

* * *

"The incident is starting to impact the hospital, Doctor Vaughn. Should I get supplies?"

For a moment, Doctor Billie Vaughn stared at the ferret-faced orderly outside the door to a room in the intensive care unit. "Yes, get more supplies. Get more of everything you can think of: bandages, legitimate painkillers like morphine not that backroom garbage."

"Even blood?"

"Especially blood. Check with Head Nurse Jones; she knows what we need."

The orderly went to round up some help for his supply run. Billie was just glad the guy left so she could finish her rounds in peace. She shook her head as she pushed open the door.

"Incident," she thought, "massacre would be the better description." It had been a week since that massacre, but to Billie it felt like one endless night. Over 100 men were sent to this hospital. Some men were dead on arrival; others had various degrees of wounds mostly caused by bullets and from what Billie could only assume to be explosion debris. "Too many lives were lost, but for what reason?" The young doctor knew better than to dwell on such a question.

She entered the room where, as far as she was concerned, her only patient lay. Due to his injuries, her patient looked as if ancient Egyptians priests did a shoddy job of wrapping their nobleman; his legs and parts of his head, arms, and chest were bare. His green hair stuck out of the wrapping making him comical in appearance. He was half dead when he was brought in. Somehow the men who brought him in figured out a way to stop his insides from falling out of what could only be a sword slash across his torso. Between stabilizing him and putting him back together, her patient almost single-handedly cleaned out the blood supply. Under normal circumstances, Billie would have given up on him because it would be more merciful to let him slip away, but Shin's men brought him which meant the Syndicate wanted this guy badly, so she had no choice but to help bring him back to the living.

The young doctor walked towards her patient, who occupied the bed farthest from the door. Standing on the far side of the patient's bed was Head Nurse Margaret Jones, a portly, salt-and-pepper haired, middle-aged woman whose face was scarred with years of worry lines. The head nurse furrowed her eyebrows. "Billie, have you eaten anything today?"

"Yeah, I did. Ferret-face smuggled in two cheeseburgers for me. I ate them in the morgue."

"That's just wrong," clucked the head nurse.

"Why? Because I found the one place 'round here no one likes going to?"

"No." Maggie rolled her eyes. "Because there's at least two corpses that have parts that resemble ground meat."

"Really? I was too hungry to notice. And besides," said Billie as she leaned over her patient and used her stethoscope to listen to his heart, "considering what I've seen over the past couple of days, those bodies wouldn't bother me. His heart is growing stronger."

"And you used Seymour's crush on you for your own purposes."

Billie stood up and faced the nurse. "Don't start blaming me for this. Is it my fault I'm the first woman round his age to treat this guy decently? Just because he can't figure out the difference between like, love, and common decency isn't my fault." She took a deep breath and turned away from Maggie's angry eyes.

"Also it's not my fault he does look like a ferret," Billie added.

Maggie lost her motherly indignation over the orderly and chuckled, causing the worry to vanish. "I know, but you don't have to refer to him that way. Suppose he overheard you talking about him that way? You'll ruin him for life with women."

"Maggie, I think I've already ruined him for women; I hugged him when he gave me the burgers." Billie looked at her friend, and the two women busted out laughing.

"You're hopeless," Maggie said.

"Maybe, but it was worth those burgers." Billie stretched and took a deep breath. "By the way, he's looking for you."

"Why?"

"Fe ... I mean, Seymour wants to do a supply run, and I told him you'd know what this place needs."

"So that's who you were talking with. Looks like that hug really did ruin him," chuckled Maggie.

"Yep. So, is everything ready?" asked Billie as she sat down in the chair that was in between the two beds and next to the blood transfusion machine.

Maggie crossed her arms as worry returned to her face. "Are you sure you want to do this? There are other people here on staff with his blood type. You're just asking for trouble by doing this."

"I'll be fine, Maggie," she smiled. "This will give me a legitimate excuse to leave this place for a while or claim a bed for a bit. Is the machine ready?"

"Yes, but—"

"But you still think this is a bad idea, so noted, Nurse." Billie removed her doctor's coat. She wore scrubs, so there was no need to roll up her shirtsleeve.

Maggie scowled. She hated when Billie pulled rank during these moments because it was the doctor's way of ending the discussion. "It'll just be a little prick," she said as she inserted the needle into Billie's left arm. Blood started flowing into the connecting tube as Maggie connected the patient to the machine then turned it on.

"I'll be back in a few to check on you," she said as she made her way to the door.

"Don't worry," Billie replied with a smile, "this guy won't let anything happen to me."

Billie waited for the door to close and sighed. "If you play your cards right, you may just get a roommate today, assuming you don't mind me as company." She removed her watch from her wrist and tossed it onto the bed closest to the door. A few seconds passed in silence. "I didn't think so."

Using her free right hand, she released her pony-tailed, shoulder-length black hair, then shook her head. She closed her eyes. Too tired to realize what she was doing, Billie began to sing Nina Simone's Come Ye and kept the beat by tapping her right hand against the chair's sidearm to pass the time. Halfway through the song, the door opened and two sets of footsteps entered.

"How are you doing, Doctor Vaughn?" Maggie announced as she positioned herself in front of the machine. Billie gave a low moan of despair because thanks to Maggie she knew who the other person was.

"Doctor Vaughn," Seymour said in his slightly nasal tenor voice, "I found Head Nurse Jones and will get the supplies including blood just like you requested." He stood right in front of Billie, oblivious to the tubes sticking out of her arm.

"Thank you, Seymour," Billie said. Maggie arched her eyebrow at the doctor.

"Is there—"

Maggie interrupted, "Seymour, can't you see that Doctor Vaughn is in no condition to go over inventory with you." The nurse moved from the transfusion machine to firmly place her hands on Seymour's shoulders. "This can all wait until tomorrow. Doctor Vaughn is no longer on call. Go ask Doctor Jin if there's anything else needed." She pushed the eager-to-please orderly out of the door and locked it.

"Thanks, Maggie. I appreciate it."

"Don't thank me yet; you still have to face Seymour when he returns with the supplies," Maggie replied as she walked back to her friend's side.

Billie groaned.

Maggie leaned over the machine. "Let's see how this is going. Hmm, everything seems to be going well, but I'm going to stick around just in case ... and to get an answer to a question."

"A question? I can promise an answer, but it might not be the one you want. Pull up a chair," smiled Billie.

The nurse moved a chair to face Billie. "Were you singing just before we came in?"

"Singing?" the doctor chuckled, "I guess so. It's an old habit; I sing to relax."

"Considering what we've been through recently, I'm surprised no one else has caught you doing this. You have a lovely voice."

"Thanks."

As several minutes passed. Maggie got out of her chair to monitor the procedure.

"Got any requests, Maggie?" Billie asked.

"What?"

"Is there a song you want to hear?"

Maggie smiled. "No."

"Wonder what I should choose?"

"How about a lullaby?"

"I thought you didn't have a request."

"I don't," Maggie turned off the machine, "but it's time for you to get some sleep, Doctor." She removed the transfusion tube from Billie's left arm and bandaged it.

"The procedure isn't over."

"Yes, it is. I got some people to donate blood earlier today and now Seymour is getting more blood, so you don't have to complete this procedure." Maggie replaced the empty blood bag with the full one she hid in her apron pocket then connected Billie's patient to it. "Now, get into bed."

The look on Maggie's cobalt blue eyes made Billie realize that her friend was not going to take no for an answer. Slowly she got out of the chair and walked towards the other bed in the room.

The head nurse turned down the blankets and helped the doctor into bed. "Wait a minute," she chided as she removed her friend's shoes. "Now, you're not to leave this room; understand?"

Billie yawned, "Yes."

"Good." Maggie walked to the door. "I'll lock the door so no one can enter," she said, as she turned off the overhead light then left.

Billie muttered, "Sweet dreams, Mr. E," then fell asleep.

"Billie, wake up. You're needed," urged Maggie as she shook the sleeping doctor.

"Wha?" Slowly sitting up, she asked, "How long was I out?"

"Six hours. I'm sorry I have to wake you, but Randy is on the phone. He says it's urgent."

"Six? Didn't I say wake me up in three."

Wrapping her arm around her sleepy friend's waist for support, Maggie replied, "No, you didn't. I wouldn't be waking you up at all if it weren't an emergency. Randy needs you; he's on the phone."

Billie squinted her eyes as they left the intensive care unit and walked down the florescent-lit hallway towards the Pit, the only area in the underground hospital that functioned as a nurse's station and doctor's office. Billie leaned heavily on the counter and picked up the phone receiver.

"This better be good, Randy."

Randy's tenor voice replied, "Argo is demanding to see you."

"Nice to know I'm wanted," she scoffed.

"Not funny, Billie. This time he's different, and it's a difference I don't think I'd survive. There's something in his eyes. Something that... he's threatening to cut my throat if you don't show soon."

"Where did you tell him I was?"

"In the shower."

"Good, that will buy me a little time. Tell the brute I'll be there in ten minutes. See ya soon." Billie hung up the phone and walked behind the counter towards the locker room. "Maggie, if Randy calls again tell him to put on music; music supposedly calms the savage beast, right? I'm going to have a quick rinse off; can't have the folks up in the bar learn what's happening down here."

Grabbing the front of the slight bartender's shirt, Argo demanded, "Where's Billie?"

Randy, trying to pry the brute's meaty hand off his shirt, replied, "She's coming. You know how women are: it takes forever for them to get ready. She'll be here as soon as she's done primping."

Argo Kuzmin was six feet three inches tall and pure nasty attitude. He dressed in military fatigues and maintained a military buzz cut for his black hair. Whether Argo was ever in the military, no one knew, but then everyone was too afraid to ask him.

Several people moved from their barstools to vacant tables for their own safety. The other patrons of the bar kept their distance. Partly because they were scared and didn't want to become that hulking drunk's new victim, and partly because they were tired of Argo's weekly fix to see the charming beauty who ran the place. She was the main reason they kept coming to the Camouflage Bar; the other reason was though the place looked like a dump the food was terrific.

"She don't primp," spat Argo. Randy felt a little faint thanks to the stench of stale whiskey on Argo's breath. Argo pulled Randy closer in hopes of finally scaring out of the bartender what he really wanted: Billie's home address. In a low growl, the drunk insisted, "Tell me where Billie is. I'll get her myself."

The only man who hadn't moved from his barstool was calmly drinking. This bald and black bearded man was new to the bar. Some thought the new guy stayed at the bar was because he thought Argo wasn't a threat; they were about the same size and build. Some thought it was because the new guy was ignoring the whole thing. Either way people didn't want to get close enough to the bar to advise the new guy to move for his own good.

The kitchen door creaked as it opened. Everyone, except the new guy, turned his head to see who was coming. Out walked a woman wearing a long sleeved, denim work shirt that was tied in a knot just below her breasts and black leather hip-hugger pants accentuating her hourglass figure. Her damp black hair was up in a loose bun with a few loose strands falling into ringlets around her face. Her lips wore a hint of pale pink lipstick, while the sparse black mascara didn't disguise the anger in her storm grey eyes. "Let go of him, Argo." Billie said as she walked behind the bar.

Argo released Randy. Many sighed with relief. The color returned to Randy's face as he walked past Billie straight to the kitchen. The new guy took a handful of pretzels.

She grabbed two mugs and filled them with coffee. "Why are you raising hell in my bar? Lose another cargo run?" She passed one mug to Argo, then turned round to get some milk out of the mini-refrigerator to add to her coffee.

In a voice that was a cross between a man's moan of desire and a junkie's plea for a hit, Argo asked, "What took you so long?"

"I was in the shower. A woman needs to pamper herself once in a while, and a long, hot shower is one of the ways I do this."

Several of the patrons' eyes glazed over at the image of Billie in the shower.

Argo, however, wanted the real thing. "Don't do that again."

She stirred her coffee while adding the milk. "What? Don't shower? Trust me, everyone here will be sorry if I don't. My b.o. would stop everyone from coming here, and no amount of perfume, incense, or scented candles would help." The new guy smiled and signaled for a refill.

"You know why I'm here, Billie."

The new guy pointed to the El Presidente. Billie poured some for the new guy and replied, "You're here for the same reason everyone else is here, Argo: you want good food, good drink, and witty conversation." Some people chuckled under their breath at the remark. Billie returned to Argo.

He clenched his teeth. "That's not why and you know it."

"Obviously, I don't." Billie took a sip of her coffee and made a face. "Bitter, too bitter." She ducked under the bar to find some sugar, added a heaping spoonful then stirred.

"Quit playing around with me, woman." Argo seized the mug and lifted it to his mouth to drink.

The new guy noticed that while the hulking drunk was using his left hand to hold the coffee mug, he slipped his right hand into a pocket of his cargo pants.

Billie sipped her coffee and looked Argo straight in the eyes. "You come in here once or twice every week, drink several Rattlesnakes on top of whatever you've had before you get here, and expect me to be your personal servant, regardless of the fact that there are other customers or that I might have a day off from this place. I am not your personal property, Argo." She took another sip of coffee.

Argo sat silently and stared into his coffee. His grip tightened on the mug, causing it to tremble.

Billie went in to the kitchen and returned with a tray of cleaned beer glasses. She began to stack them behind the bar. Her back was to Argo. "Also I don't date customers; it's bad for business. If I did, the guy would think since he's dating me all his drinks and his friends' drinks are free, running up a helluvah tab. Then when we break up because he's a drunk or becomes a drunk, he'll refuses to pay. Like I said it's bad for business."

Argo's body shook with fury. "No one has ever spoken to me that way and lived. Not even a beauty like you, Billie." As he started to pull out what was hidden in his cargo pants pocket, Argo felt the muzzle of a gun on his right temple.

"I suggest you let me have that," said the new guy.

Billie turned around to see Argo hand the new guy a gun. The sight stunned her.

The new guy moved Argo's gun out of harm's way as he got up from his stool. "Now get up and walk with me." He slid the muzzle of his West-German Walther P99 to the back of Argo's head to insure Argo's compliance as he moved behind Argo.

Argo did as he was told. The two men walked towards the door.

The other patrons watched dumbfounded. No one thought Argo would have been crazy enough to pull a gun on Billie; then again no one thought anyone would be brave enough, or dumb enough, to stop Argo if he did.

When they reached the door, the new guy said, "Open it slowly. If you try anything, this will be you're last visit." He cocked the trigger to prove he'd make good on his word.

"Wait a sec," said Billie. She grabbed her camera she hid under the counter and ran out from behind the bar. Billie looked through the lens and focused on Argo's face. "Smile for the camera, Argo." Everyone knew what that meant: Argo was banned from the Camouflage Bar now.

The new guy pushed Argo out the door then locked the door to insure Argo wouldn't try to re-enter the place. He stood behind the closed door with his gun clearly in sight to make sure Argo understood his presence wasn't wanted. Once he was sure Argo wasn't going to return, he unlocked the door. As he returned to his stool, the other patrons broke out in applause and cheers. Some went up to the bar to shake the new guy's hand.

Billie went behind the bar and put her camera away. "I'd like to know the name of the man that just saved my life," she said as she poured herself a drink.

"Jet Black."

"Well, Jet Black," she raised her mug, "thank you for not only saving my life but for taking care of a thorn in my side." She took a swig then removed Argo's gun from the bar.

Jet sipped his drink, then remarked, "You know he'll be back."

"Yep, but I'll worry about that another day. Right now, I'm more interested in the story behind this" She gently traced the scar that vertically bisected Jet's right eye.

Jet smiled. "Bartenders don't learn that story on my first visit."

She laughed. "Fair enough. By the way, call me Billie; everyone does." While topping of Jet's drink, Billie called, "Randy, it's safe to come out now. Argo is gone for good."

The slight bartender from before poked his out the kitchen door. "Really?"

"Really. His picture will join the others on the 'banned for life' wall. This man took care of Argo."

Randy, a slight but wiry man with a mop of blonde hair, sat down next to Jet. "Thanks," he said as he shook Jet's hand. "Today was the worst I'd ever seen that behemoth. He's never been this aggressive when asking about Billie."

"Maybe it was that time of the month for him," Billie commented.

"If it was only that simple for men," Randy replied, "I think he had an itch that needed scratching. What do you think, Jet?"

"About what?"

"About why Argo acted the way he did."

"Leave Jet alone," Billie interjected, "he's had more than enough to deal with today. I don't need you scaring him off with your inquiring mind."

Randy rebuked, "When was asking a question a scare tactic?"

She replied, "It depends on who's asking the question."

Jet smiled. Billie's answer reminded him of his comrade Spike, the guy he was looking for.

Randy gave her a dirty look then hopped off the stool to check on the patrons at the tables behind them.

"Would you like some more?" she asked as she reached for El Presidente.

"No thanks," answered Jet as he stood up and reached for his wallet. "What do I owe you?"

"Nothing. By the way, the next time you come, you'll have a meal on the house. It's the least I can do to repay what you did."

Jet didn't know what to say, so he nodded his head. He walked out of bar and headed back toward the Bebop. The street was bustling with shoppers, three-card Monty dealers, and sidewalk vendors. As he walked, Jet noticed a few kids were following him. They were no older than eleven. The tall one seemed to be the leader and signaled to the other boys to walk on either side of Jet. Being a former cop, Jet knew what these kids were up to: they were going to pick his pocket. To avoid the attempt, he ducked into a pet store and watched the kids keep walking. While in there, he looked at a couple of Welsh Corgies dogs then left. As he got closer to the dock where his ship the Bebop was, Jet stopped off at a grocery stores and bought some food. He just hoped that the ship's other occupant, Faye Valentine, wouldn't eat all the food before he had some.

Jet boarded the Bebop and was relieved to find Faye was out. He wasn't in the mood to deal with her or her bottomless pit of a stomach. The visit to the Camouflage Bar gave him enough to think about. Jet put the perishables in the refrigerator in the kitchen where Faye couldn't find them then walked to his sanctuary on the ship: his bonsai room. Thinking about how the small trees should look always helped Jet focus his thoughts. After carefully studying and trimming a bonsai for an hour, he was ready to work with what he's learned.

According to his connection in the Mars division of the Inter-Solar System Police (ISSP), it was rumored that due to conflicting interests within the Red Dragon Syndicate, one of their generals created a hospital for his own safety, but no one knew where it was. The few undercover agents that tried to learn its location ended up dead. However, one of these doomed agents was able to send the word "camouflage" before meeting his end. No one exactly knew what the guy meant by it, especially since it was obvious to many in the ISSP that the hospital wouldn't be out in the open for all to see.

The Camouflage Bar was a dive within walking distance the docks that was frequented by locals, cargo haulers, and bounty hunters. From his visit, Jet didn't learn much about the place. The bar itself was what you'd expect from a dive: a bar counter and furniture that shows its age from years of abuse, a couple of pool tables, a few dartboards, and a clientele that lived in the bar in hope. The bartender and the owner, however, were a little more interesting. Randy seemed out of place: clean cut, manicured nails, nice clothes like a satin shirt, a little flirty with the customers, and a coward when confronted by a drunk patron. Not what you'd expect to find behind the bar. Billie, on the other hand, was exactly what you expect: a no-nonsense woman who doesn't back away from a fight or allow a fight to happen while she was around. Jet was willing to bet that she also flirted just enough with her customers to make them glad they came by but not enough for them to believe they had a chance with her. He certainly was impressed with how she handled Argo. Not many women, or men for that matter, would have been brave enough to joke with a belligerent drunk. Then again, from what she said, Billie had practice dealing with Argo, that is, until today. The look on her face when she saw the gun told Jet that she never expected Argo to do something like that. Jet made a mental note to keep an eye out for Argo on his next visit to the bar.

Jet sat in front of his computer and started his search for information on Billie and Randy when a vid window popped up.

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeey Bebop!" said the little redheaded girl.

"Ed? What have you been up to?"

"Teaching chess to Empu." Ein, a Welsh Corgie, barked in the background.

"Empu?

"

"Ed's friend."

"Why is that name familiar?" asked Jet, then he realized where he heard that name before. "Ed, isn't that the name of–"

"Ed sees your searching for bountyheads," Ed interrupted.

"What?" Jet shook his head. "Ed, don't you know it's not nice to put a trace on your friends' computer to see what they're doing."

Ed just laughed. "Ed can help."

"I don't have much to go on, Ed, so search for information about a man named Randy. He's 5'8" and has blonde hair. A woman named Billie; she's 5'7, black hair and grey eyes. She owns the Camouflage Bar in New Arcadia on Mars."

"Okey dokey!" said Ed as she saluted and signed off.

"Wait!" Jet shouted then groaned and wondered how long it will take Ed to find information. All he could do now was wait. Jet pulled a cigarette out of his vest pocket and lit it. "Kids," he muttered.

Just then the door leading to the cargo bay corridor slid opened; Faye was home. "Find Spike yet, Jet?"

"No," he lied. He didn't see the point in getting her hopes up.

Faye flopped onto the yellow sofa. "If I had only gotten there sooner, we'd know where Spike is."

"You don't know that, Faye. If you got there sooner, you could have been killed."

"Maybe, but I do know Spike is dead."

"We don't know that." Jet took a long drag on his cigarette.

Faye sat up and looked Jet straight in the eyes. "I saw Vicious' body getting taken away. He's not the kind of guy that would have let Spike walk away, so Spike is dead."

Jet returned the look. "Have you seen Spike's body?"

"No."

"Then we don't know if he's dead. No body means Spike might be alive."

"You believe what you want, Jet, but I know what Vicious is capable of. Spike couldn't have survived." With that said, Faye got up and walked away.

Jet was in the kitchen making bell peppers and beef (minus the beef) when he heard Ed's voice.

"Jet-person! Ed calling!"

Jet turned off the flame and ran to the screen in the common room. He was greeted by Ed's big goofy grin that had taken over the screen. "Ed, what did you find?"

"Ed found lots of things." She held up an old Gameboy Advance, then placed a disheveled cowboy hat on her head, then held up a box of piyokos. "Ed loves piyokos!" The little redhead girl opened the box then stuffed a piyoko into her mouth. Ed giggled with delight as she tossed one to Ein.

"That's nice, Ed, but did you find any information on those people I described to you?"

Ed's torso started to rotate and she said, "vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrroom," as the sugar from the piyoko just kicked in. Then she stopped suddenly and hit a key on her keyboard. A data screen with Randy's arrest record and mug shot popped opened on Jet's monitor. Ed started reading aloud in what she thought was an upper class accent what she found. "Alexander 'Randy' Vanderhorn was arrested for smuggling artifacts stolen from the Europa Capital Museum, which the Europa government thought were lost for good. He was also disowned by his family and cut off from the Vanderhorn family fortune, but it doesn't say why." Another data screen popped open. "Doctor Billie Ella Vaughn graduated Deimos University School of Medicine summa cum laude with a specialties in surgery and venoms and poisons. Several big Mars hospitals were fighting over her, but she vanished. Scary!"

Jet learned about Randy's arrest from his own search, but Billie's degree was new. "Have any luck with the Camouflage Bar?"

"Ed still working on that. Lots of encryptions on it."

"That makes sense, if the place is what I think it is."

"What is it? Tell Ed."

"A place where you can get a good drink, good food, and a smile," he replied as the image of Billie refilling his drink crossed his mind's eye.

"Huh? Would Ed like it there?"

"Maybe ... I don't know, Ah never mind, Ed. Thanks for the information. Why don't you call back when you've got something on the Camouflage Bar."

"Camouflage Bar; camouflage car. Will do." Ed signed off.

"Was that Ed?" Faye asked from behind Jet.

Jet turned around to see Faye eating the bell peppers and beef he made. "Damn it, Faye, can't you cook for yourself?"

"Why should I when you leave cooked food for anyone to take?" She stuffed another forkful into her mouth.

Instead of getting into a fight with Faye over her eating habits, Jet answered her original question, "Yes, that was Ed. She's doing some research for me."

"Related to a bounty or Spike?"

"A bounty," he lied. "Spike would consider them small fry and not bother with them. Their combined worth is under a few thousand woo long."

Faye maneuvered her slim frame between Jet and the screen for a better look. "What they do? Knock over a candy store?" Faye moved away from the screen and placed the empty plate on the coffee table. "They're all yours, Jet. Call me when you learn anything about Spike." She headed towards her room.

Relieved that Faye left, Jet was able to study the information Ed sent him. Faye was right about one thing: Randy and Billie looked too clean cut to be bountyheads. However, if Faye really looked at the files on the screen, she could have figured out these two might be smuggling medical supplies. But then Jet knew Faye wasn't acting like herself. Hell, Jet knew he wasn't acting like himself. How could they? They were hurting. Their friend Spike was missing because he went off to settle the score with a psychopath from his past in the Red Dragon Syndicate called Vicious. Though he knew Spike for the past three years, neither man told the other about his past. It just wasn't their way. Now Jet hoped they might have the chance to rectify this.

Jet understood why Spike went. If the roles were reversed, Jet knew he would have done the same thing. It was hard to spend your time running from your past sins and wondering about the woman who changed your life only to find her and lose her in the same instance. The only thing left for a man to do was to stop running and confront his past.

Jet consulted an acquaintance of Spike's, a Native American chief called Sitting Bull. He said it was Spike's time, but Jet refused to believe the old chief. Jet believed, he wanted and needed to believe, that Spike had a greater will to live than to let himself die by Vicious' hand. He always thought of Spike as a survivor and refused to think that Spike would give up because Julia was gone. From the description Spike gave of Julia ("There was a woman. For the first time in my life I saw a woman that was truly alive. That's what I believed. She was a piece of me I had lost. She is my other half that I had longed for."1), Jet thought Julia would want Spike to live also, but who knew what a grieving man thought.

The ex-cop shook his head to clear his thoughts to concentrate on the information in front of him. He read Randy and Billie's files over several times. Randy was easy to figure out: he was the black sheep of the Vanderhorn family and the family couldn't take him anymore so they kicked him out. Because the money stopped, Randy fell on hard times and all he could manage was a bartending job. Billie, however, was a mystery.

"Why would a young woman with such a promising future give it up for a dive?" Jet muttered. He believed his answer was connected to the Camouflage Bar.

Faye stood outside her room, but she didn't want to go in. The videotape of her younger self was there, and she knew she'd destroy it if she walked in because that life didn't exist for her anymore. That life went on without her. She kicked the door then headed towards an exit to get some air.

Once outside, the chill of the oncoming night air didn't change her mood. Faye started walking, not caring where her feet took her. Jet's blind optimism about Spike being alive was more than she could handle. Jet never had the dubious pleasure of meeting Vicious. He never looked into those cold grey eyes. Faye shuddered at the memory. She picked up her pace as if that would help her to outrun the memory.

The streetlights turned on, illuminating closing storefronts. The hustle and bustle of the evening made no imprint on Faye. To her, these people were all trying to get to where they belonged. Faye knew where she belonged now, but she was questioning if Jet knew where he belonged.

"Men are such idiots," she muttered to herself as she tried to kick a stray soda can but kicked a streetlamp instead. "Ow!" she screamed. She leaned on the damned lamppost so she could rub her foot and see if she ruined her shoe.

"Are you all right?" asked a tenor voice.

Faye picked up her head to see a blonde haired, wiry man wearing a green silk button down shirt, black jeans and black loafers looking at her. "Yes," she replied.

"If you say so, but my place is just a little farther. I could help you get there," Randy remarked.

Faye gave Randy a dirty look, but before Faye could speak he held up his hands as if to fend off an attack and said, "The place where I work, not live. I'm not trying to picking you up figuratively; I'm trying to pick you up literally, so you won't hurt your foot while walking."

She smiled at Randy's successful save. "How far is it to your place?"

He scooped Faye up in his arms like she was a princess. "Like I said, it's not far." Randy carried Faye for a block and knocked on the Camouflage Bar's door. A tall, dark mocha-skinned, muscular man opened the door. Randy walked straight to the bar and placed Faye on a stool. He went behind the bar, grabbed a clean dishtowel and filled it with ice. "Here, this is for your foot," Randy said as he passed the ice-filled towel to Faye.

"Thanks." Faye removed her shoe and placed the cold compress on the ball of her foot. She winced at the cold.

The kitchen doors swung open. Billie walked out carrying a tray laden with food precariously balanced on one hand. She made her way to a table with three old men and rested the serving tray on part of the table. "Okay, the steak burger with lettuce, tomato, onions, and a side of fries for Jobin." She placed the meal in front of the old man in a baseball cap. "The turkey club with cranberry sauce and a side of onion rings for Carlos." Billie placed the plate in front of the old man in the straw hat. "And last but not least, a Caesar salad for Antonio." She leaned over the table and placed the salad in front of the salivating old man with a mustache wearing a pale yellow shirt. At that moment Jobin and Carlos hated Antonio because of his view down Billie's shirt.

Antonio's jaw slackened as he hoarsely said, "Thank you, Billie."

She smiled at Antonio. "You're welcome. Enjoy, guys," Billie said as she turned to return the tray to the kitchen.

Faye didn't bother looking up the first time the kitchen doors opened, but she looked this time as Billie walked through them. She watched Billie go behind the bar and give Randy a hug. There was something familiar about her.

"I thought you went out to do some shopping?" Billie asked.

"I did, but I got sidetracked," he replied and pointed at Faye.

Billie faced Faye and noticed her icing her foot. "Hello. What did you do to your foot? Is it serious?" she asked as she leaned over the bar for a better look.

"It's nothing. I banged it on a streetlight."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Faye replied in a slightly annoyed tone.

"Relax, it was just a question," Randy said, "Billie was just asking because she was concerned."

Something clicked in Faye's mind: that woman is the one Jet was looking at on the screen.

"By the way, the name's Randy; and your is?"

"Faye." She couldn't believe her luck. What were the odds of stumbling onto two bountyheads without even trying? They may be worth chump change, Faye thought, but she should hit a casino with the reward money, hoping this luck was last.

The man who opened the door for Randy sat two stools down from Faye to keep an eye on her. His instincts were telling him she was trouble.

Billie walked over to him. "The usual, Biko?"

A smile softened his severe demeanor. "Yes, please, Billie," he replied in his deep bass voice.

"Big, strong, and polite? That's a rare combination to find in a man," Faye commented.

"Not as rare as you might think, Faye," responded Randy as he walked over to a table to take an order.

"Oh, really?"

Billie said, "Really." She served Biko his usual: a club soda with freshly squeezed limejuice. "There are plenty of polite men in the world. It's just a matter of meeting them. From the sound of it, you haven't met enough."

Randy went into the kitchen to place the order.

Faye put on her shoe. "Maybe I should hang around you, Billie, since you seem to be the expert." She stood up and feigned pain in her foot. "Damn! Maybe I didn't just bruise it."

Billie sat on the bar, swung her legs around to the other side, and slipped off. "Faye, take off your shoe, so I ­–" She was cut off by the Austrian Glock 30 muzzle to her forehead.

"Now be a good little bountyhead and put your hands on the stool in front of you," Faye said as she slid the muzzle to the back of Billie's head to insure Billie's compliance and moved behind Billie. "Don't move, big guy, or she gets it."

Biko scowled and sat like a cobra waiting for his chance to strike.

Billie muttered, "Twice in one day."

"What did you say?" Faye asked.

"I said, 'Twice in one day.' You're the second person to come after me with a gun; the first guy didn't get a chance to draw his gun though."

Faye pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her inside jacket pocket and slapped one cuff on Billie's wrist. "Don't try anything and put your hands behind your back." Billie did as she was told.

"Miss, what did Billie do?" asked Antonio.

Billie smiled impishly. "I didn't pay my tab at a restaurant, so she came to collect." Faye secured the other cuff.

The three old men turned crimson because they hadn't paid their tab at the Camouflage Bar for the past two months.

"Now that I have you, I can come back for Randy."

"Are you sure about that?" Randy whispered in Faye's ear as he placed a knife to her throat.

"Cut me and I'll shoot her," Faye said coolly.

He smiled at her bravado. "Bountyheads are worthless if they're dead, so I know you won't shoot Billie." She was pissed he called her bluff and won.

Biko removed the gun from Faye's hand, then emptied it of its bullets. "Where's the key to the cuffs?" he asked.

Faye grinned evilly. "Where do you think?"

Biko groaned.

"Smart move, but do you honestly think that would stop me from getting them?" inquired Randy as he put his free hand down Faye's shirt to find the key.

"Hey!" Faye yelped.

Randy removed his hand and tossed the key to Biko. "Sorry about the cold hand."

Biko released Billie, placed the cuffs on Faye then leaned over the bar to place a call.

Billie rubbed her wrists. "What the hell is wrong with you?" She walked behind the bar.

Randy removed the knife from Faye's neck. Faye slumped on to the stool next to her. Biko hung up the phone and watched the door.

"There's a bounty on your heads, and I need the money," Faye said matter-of-factly.

"Really? For what?" asked Randy as he sat down next to her.

"I don't know."

"You don't know? What kind of bounty hunter are you?" roared Billie. She picked up her camera and focused it. "You should be grateful this is all I'm doing to you. Now smile for the camera." The shutter clicked. "This will go next to Argo's picture."

Randy arched an eyebrow. "Isn't that a bit drastic?"

"Would you want the person who put a gun to your head for no reason to be allowed back?" She took the camera to her office to print out the new additions to the Banned for Life wall.

Randy knew there was no point in arguing, especially since he saw Billie's point. He turned to Faye. "Is there anything I can do to make your wait more comfortable?"

"You can remove these handcuffs," she replied.

He smiled. "Nice try."

Faye turned to face Randy. "How were you able to sneak up on me?"

"No shoes," he said as he raised one foot, "and a squeak-free door and floor. I was ready to return with an order when I saw you pull the gun on Billie. I removed my shoes and grabbed a knife." He placed the knife of the bar top.

"You'd think a place like this would have one squeaky floorboard." Faye was mortified; a pair of socks and dumb luck beat her.

"We have squeaky boards, just not by the bar. So what's a nice girl like you doing in a rough profession like bounty hunting?"

Faye couldn't help but laugh at the question. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Life couldn't be that bad for you."

The door to the bar opened, and a baby-faced man wearing a grey linen suit walked in. "Biko, you said you apprehended a troublemaker?" asked police detective Booker.

Biko got up to greet him. "She's over at the bar with Randy. You're here rather fast."

"I was headed over here to grab some dinner when I got the call."

They walked over to where Randy and Faye sat. "She pulled this," Biko handed Booker the Austrian Glock 30, "on Billie because there's a bounty on her head."

"You're not pulling any punches with this baby, are you lady?" Booker admired the piece. "Nice, but where's the ammo?" Biko handed it over to Booker. "Thanks. By the way, I've checked: there are no bounties out for Billie or Randy. Whoever told you that they were is smoking the wacky tobaccy too much." He slid Faye's gun into the back of his pants.

Billie returned from her office holding two photographs when she noticed the detective.

"Booker!" she said. She placed the photos on the bar and hugged him. "So, Biko called you in, huh?"

He returned the hug. "Like I told him, I just happened to be in the neighborhood when the call came in. Are you pressing charges?"

Jet groaned. Another old contact had no information for him about the Camouflage Bar. He collapsed onto the yellow couch and rubbed his eyes. "That's the sixth one. At this rate I'll be calling in all my old debts with nothing to show for it. Hope Ed is having better luck than I am."

A vid window popped opened on the screen.

"Jet Black?" asked Booker. "Are you there, Mr. Black? This is the Mars Police."

Jet sat up and turned the screen towards him. "What did Faye do?"

"How did you know this is about Miss. Valentine?"

"I haven't done anything to warrant the Mars Police's attention."

"Miss. Valentine walked into a bar, believing that the owner and bartender had prices on their heads. Know where she got this idea?"

Jet replied, "I don't know and have no opinion."

"Figured as much." Booker chuckled. "Come down to the 29th Precinct on the corner of Broadway and Houston."

"How much will it take to pay her bail?"

"She's being arraigned in an hour. You'll find out then."

"Why can't that woman leave anything alone?" Jet muttered to himself as Faye's case was called.

A tall, bald, gangly looking bailiff announced, "Docket number 3094683: the People versus Faye Valentine. Her charges are assault with a deadly weapon, false imprisonment, and reckless endangerment."

"How do you plea?" asked the portly judge.

Faye proclaimed, "Innocent. I was given rotten information. I-"

The judge interrupted, "I'll take that as a not guilty." He swings his hammer down. "Bail is set at 60,000 woolongs."

"I ... I ... don't have that sort of money," sputtered Faye. "I could kill him."

The judge arched his eyebrow. "Bailiff, take that woman into custody. She just made a death threat.

"What?!?!"

Jet spoke up. "You honor, I know Miss Valentine doesn't mean what she said." He shot Faye a stern look and hoped she understood to keep her mouth shut. "She was just shocked by the day's events."

"Is this true?" the judge asked.

In her sweetest voice, Faye replied, "Yes, your honor."

Reluctantly the judge said, "Miss Valentine is free to go once her bail has been paid."

Jet left the courtroom and headed to the clerk's office when he sensed someone behind him.

"Mr. Black," Booker said, "I'm impressed with how you handled the situation in the courtroom."

"I'm an old dog when it comes to the courtroom, Detective Booker."

"So your ISSP record says."

Jet stopped in his tracks.

"After what happened at the Camouflage Bar, I thought I should run a check on the two of you. Impressive record you have there."

"That was another life."

"So I can see," chuckled Booker. "I would have thought that a man with your experience would have better taste in a partner."

Jet looked thunderstruck. "Partner?"

Booker was pleased that he caught Jet off guard. "Yeah, your partner. Why else would you be bailing out Miss. Valentine?"

"She's not my partner. My partner is ... "Jet couldn't finish the sentence. If he did, then he would be admitting Faye was right and Spike was dead.

Intrigued, Booker asked, "If she's not your professional partner, then is she your partner in another capacity?"

"No! Faye is just a friend."

"Who happens to live with you."

"What's your point?" asked the former ISSP detective with a slight snarl in his voice. He wondered what Booker was trying to learn with all his questions.

"My point," said Booker, "is either Miss Valentine is one helluvah friend to you or you feel responsible. I'm just trying to figure out which it is."

"Faye happens to owe me money, and the only way I'll get my money back is if she's out of jail doing her job." Jet didn't wait for a response from Booker and started walking towards the Clerk's office.

Booker didn't mind. His little conversation with Jet gave him all the information he wanted and planned to use, if necessary, some time in the future.

An hour later, Jet and Faye left the police station. As they walked out, Jet asked, "You okay?"

Faye snarled, "What do you think?" Jet knew he was in trouble.

"I've just spent the past four hours in jail because of your wrong information."

"I never told you to go after them."

"Since when did I need your permission to hunt bountyheads?"

Jet turned to face Faye. "You think with what happened to you when you went after Mao Yen Rai you'd think twice about chasing people I'm in the middle of investigating."

Faye froze in her tracks for a moment; Jet's words had their desired affect. He didn't know what happened to her, but he knew the experience left its mark on Faye.

To Jet, that experience was the beginning of the end: the end of everyday same old same old, the end of common sense on the Bebop, the end of ...

Another thought he couldn't finish. Jet knew that was the beginning was of many things that bothered him about this situation. A part of him wanted to blame Faye. He knew that was wrong, but he couldn't help it. If she hadn't run off and got caught, maybe Spike would have asked Jet to back him up when he finally faced Vicious. Spike should have listened to him:

Vicious. Julia. To me, those names sound ominous like a magic spell that unlocks an old door ... a door that should stay closed.2

However, from what Jet learned about the Red Dragons and from how Faye described Julia, he knew that door could never have stayed closed. Those were the sorts of things that haunted a man for the rest of his life. A part of Jet hated Spike for not being able to escape his past. He hated Spike for that because Jet realized when he had spoken with Alisa again that there are some parts of your life you can't close the door on until you truly know you can lose the key to that door.

Faye's voice broke into Jet's reflections. "Jet, are you listening to me?"

"Is there a reason I should?" Jet retorted.

Faye stormed off ahead, furious, but she wasn't sure what annoyed her more: Jet's bad info and its resulting incarceration or Jet's silent act and his annoyed response. "Where did he get off being angry? I'm the one who went to jail," she muttered. Faye didn't pay attention to the people she propelled herself through to reach the Bebop. When she got inside, Faye realized why Jet was investigating those nothings and waited, patiently, for Jet to return.

1 Quote from the dubbed version of Cowboy Bebop Session #25 – the Real Folk Blues Part 1

2 Quote from the dubbed version of Cowboy Bebop Session #25 – the Real Folk Blues Part 1


	2. Part 2 Sour Notes

The characters Spike Spiegel, Jet Black, Faye Valentine, Edward Wong, Ein, Antonio, Carlos, & Jobin are creations from the Cowboy Bebop TV series and movie. They do not belong to me.

The characters Dr. Billie Vaughn, Margaret Jones, Seymour (a.k.a. Ferret- face), Alexander 'Randy' Vanderhorn, Argo Kuzmin, Biko, & Police Detective Booker are my creations.

* * *

After Faye left him, Jet didn't go back to the Bebop; he found himself outside the Camouflage Bar. He had no idea why he was there or how he knew the way, since he had been there only once before. All the former detective knew was that he wanted to put off Faye's ranting how it was his fault she was in jail for as long as he could. He had more pressing things to think about, like how this bar fit in the puzzle of finding Spike. He walked in. It was night and the place was packed. It seemed Billie wasn't boasting when she told Argo that people came here for the good food. He spotted an empty space at the bar and settled onto the stool.

The blonde haired bartender smiled and said, "Jet, welcome back. What can I get … are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"You don't look so good, so which is it: you're sick, you've lost someone, or you're having woman trouble?" Randy asked.

Jet smiled. "All three. I'm sick because I lost someone and believe I can find him, which is the cause of my woman troubles." He tossed a couple of pretzels into his mouth.

"That's impressive. Not many people have all three to deal with," Randy said while he gave Jet a dinner menu. "So, while you figure out what you need to talk about, choose something to eat because a bit of food won't add to your troubles." He left Jet to take drink orders from new arrivals.

Jet looked over the menu and thought of getting the prime rib, but then realized he didn't have the money for such an indulgence.

Randy caught the look of disappointment and practicality take over Jet's face. He walked back to Jet, pulled out a glass and started to fill it with El Presidente. Jet put his hand over the glass.

"No thanks. I'd prefer a Cowboy."

"Sure thing." Randy fixed the drink then leaned in towards Jet. In a hushed tone, he said, "Don't forget, Billie said that you can have a meal on the house, so order whatever it was that caught your eye a moment ago."

Jet nodded, then wondered why a bartender would be so observant of a customer he had no reason to worry about when the place was packed. This new mystery pushed Faye out of his mind. Since he had decided on the prime rib, the former detective decided to watch the blonde-haired, lean young man behind the counter. There was nothing remarkable about the guy. Randy was good with the customers, always ready to serve them a drink and chat. Jet's gut was telling him that there was nothing more to Randy than meets the eye. Maybe Randy was just showing his gratitude for Jet saving Billie and getting rid of Argo.

Randy returned to Jet. "Sorry, we don't have any specials tonight." He leaned into Jet again and whispered, "we're a little short handed in the kitchen tonight thanks to one of the guys getting caught with another woman by his wife." He straightened up. "You ready to order now?"

Jet chuckled at what he was told. "I'd like the prime rib."

"Good choice. How would you like it?"

"Medium."

"And what would you like as your side dishes: rice pilaf, potatoes, glazed carrots, or spinach?"

"Spinach and mashed potatoes," Jet answered, anticipating the next question Randy would ask.

"Very good, sir." Randy said with a wink as he walked over to the computer to place the order.

Jet didn't notice the wink because his mind turned to a new problem: how was he going to gain the trust of Billie and Randy to learn more. Helping to apprehend Argo was just a lucky coincidence for him, and Jet knew that somewhere down the road he was going to pay for the coincidence because that was just how his luck ran since he met Spike. Not to say he had any better luck before he teamed up with Spike, but when Spike was around, things went bad as much as they went good. Spike certainly had a way of making life more interesting.

He shook his head. "Stop thinking of him in the past tense. He's alive. My gut knows it," he muttered.

"Your lost friend?" Randy asked.

Jet replied, "Yeah." He didn't realize that the bartender had returned.

Randy gave Jet a warm smile. "If your gut is telling you that your friend is alive, then it must be true. I've learned to trust my gut instinct, and mine tells me you do the same." He glanced over at Jet's drink and saw Jet hadn't touched it. "Have a sip or two. It won't cure your troubles, but it might help you relax while figuring them out." Randy left Jet to get something from the kitchen.

Jet did as Randy suggested and took a long sip of his Cowboy. "Maybe, Randy is right," he thought. "My gut has never steered me wrong before, so why would it start now." His shoulders and right arm relaxed a bit, which surprised him because he hadn't realized that they had tensed up. Jet turned around on his stool to people watch. The Camouflage Bar had a different atmosphere from its sleepy lunchtime life. The place buzzed with conversations and laughter. Young hipsters and neighborhood locals rubbed elbows over pool, darts, drinks, and bets, while diners grazed on private conversations and delicacies on their plates. The jukebox sang with the voice of a classic rocker who had a penchant for the Blues. Slowly, Jet began to relax and push to the side, for now, the weights of the day.

"You had to return to the scene of the crime, didn't you Mr. Black?"

The moment Jet heard that question he tensed up again. Booker sat down next to Jet.

"No," Jet replied still facing the diners. "I came here to avoid Faye."

Booker, looking concerned, asked, "Trouble in paradise?"

Jet refused to rise to the cocky detective's bait. "I don't live in paradise, so I wouldn't know."

"So life with Miss. Valentine is hell?"

Randy returned from the kitchen with a plate of fried calamari. "Booker, you off duty already?" He tapped Jet on the shoulder and placed the calamari in front of Jet. "It's a great starter course before the prime rib. Your usual, Detective?" Booker nodded, & Randy poured him a Scotch on the rocks. "So, what are you two gentlemen discussing?"

"Jet's private life," replied Booker. Jet ignored the bait and started to eat the calamari.

"Which part: the lost friend or the woman?"

"The woman."

Randy asked, "You know her, Booker?"

"I met her earlier today."

"What she like?"

Booker smiled appreciatively at the thought of Faye. "She's trouble in tantalizing, barely-there wrapping." Jet eyed Booker then returned to his calamari.

"Thus explaining why she is trouble, right Jet?" asked Randy

Finishing a sip of his Cowboy, Jet replied, "That's not the reason for me."

In unison, the bartender and detective said, "Really?"

"She's trouble because she never thinks before she acts and expects me to clean up her mess," Jet remarked. He realized what he said and marveled at how this conversation made him open up about something that was neither of their business.

Randy laughed. "Sounds like a lot of women I know. Excuse me for a minute." He left the two men to fill an order from a waiter.

"Miss Valentine certainly has gotten under your skin," Booker commented after he took a sip of his Scotch.

Jet once again ignored the young looking detective. His guts told him that Booker was more than he seemed. Whether more meant that Booker was Billie's lover or that Booker was just another dirty cop helping a syndicate Jet was uncertain. He couldn't blame Booker for acting protective of Billie. She had the qualities Jet liked in a woman: intelligence, a sense of humor, compassion, a lovely smile... the thought of Billie's smile led Jet to daydream about how he'd like to make her smile. His face became flush.

"What am I doing?" Jet muttered. He had only met the woman once, and he was already fantasizing about her. The weary bounty hunter hid his face in his hands as he felt Booker's inquiring eyes on him.

Booker had watched Jet for a few moments before Jet's face became flush. The detective assumed the bounty hunter was thinking of Faye, so he didn't bother with the question Jet muttered. He believed Jet to be the honorable type, which meant Jet wouldn't become romantically involved with a woman under his care. Booker liked the idea of an old-fashion man still living in the world and smiled.

"So, Mr. Black, can I call you Jet?"

"No." Jet took a long sip of his drink.

Randy returned. "You done, Jet?" Jet nodded, and Randy cleared the plate. "Booker, have you decided on what you'll have?"

"Not very hungry. Just came in for a drink tonight. Is Billie around?"

"No. Since it's her night off, Maggie has her quarantined for the night."

Jet's heart sank.

Randy noticed the bounty hunter's momentary dismayed look and chuckled. "Maggie is an older woman who sees Billie as the daughter she always wanted. Besides," the bartender said while filling a drink order he was handed, "even if Maggie was interested in Billie that way, the feeling wouldn't be mutual. Billie's straight." Randy handed the waiter his order.

Booker laughed at the shock look on Jet's face. The last thing he expected to learn was that an ISSP legend like Jet Black could be so easily bowled over. He wondered if Jet lost some of his edge since he left the Force.

A moon-faced boy with black hair and a bowl cut approached the bar with a tray. "Who does the rush order of prime rib medium go to?" he squeaked.

Randy pointed to Jet. "To this gentleman."

The waiter served Jet then retreated to the kitchen.

"Ain't he young for a job here?" Jet asked.

"Francis is eighteen," Randy replied. "Poor guy's a mamma's boy who was kicked out of his home by his mom's new hubby. He would have been another sad street story on the news if Booker hadn't brought him here."

The detective became uncomfortable. "You give me far too much credit, Randy."

Randy ignored Booker's modesty, turned towards Jet, and continued. "Francis was a mess. His new 'daddy' did a number on him before throwing him out literally. Billie cleaned the kid up and talked with him for a while. I brought him some food and joined the conversation. After we made a few phone calls, Frankie had a place to live and two jobs lined up: daytime he works in a pet store and at night he works here. Both Billie and I won't let him work more than three nights here. Whenever we can we encourage Frankie to make friends and hangout with them, but he seems to be hooked on the 'Net." Randy was handed another drink order and excused himself.

Jet turned to face Booker. "This true?"

"About finding the kid? Yeah." The detective took a finishing swig of his Scotch on the rocks. "I was amazed Francis was conscious, let alone able to stand or walk. He's got a really thick skull to withstand the beating he got."

"Why didn't you take him to a hospital?"

"Francis was terrified of seeing a doctor. He kept saying, 'How am I gonna pay?' He was in shock, so I brought him to the only friendly faces I could think of that wouldn't make matters worse."

Jet didn't say anything.

Booker stood up and asked Randy if they could talk in private. Randy agreed. Jet started on his dinner. It had been a while since he had a real meal, so he took his time.

The life of a bounty hunter wasn't the most financially secure life. All it meant was there were more lean times in your life than you wanted to remember. Getting a free meal, literally, for a bounty hunter was a mixed blessing. It meant that you, hopefully, had decent-to-good food to silence the hunger pangs; however, more often than not it meant a favor was needed in return for the "hospitality." In the case of Jet's prime rib dinner, it was a thank you, no strings attached, which made the taste of each bite more satisfying for him.

Randy returned behind the bar and swiped Booker's card. He handed the detective his card and receipt.

"Good night, Randy, Mr. Black," Booker said then left.

Randy asked, "Are you enjoying your dinner?"

"Yes."

"Good." He left Jet to greet some new arrivals at the other end of the bar.

Jet finished his meal while contemplating nothing more serious than what spices were used. As he finished his Cowboy, he stood up and reached for his wallet.

"Stop that this instant, Jet," Randy ordered. "Put the wallet away; you're money is no good here."

"I forgot the meal is on Billie and you." Jet smiled sheepishly.

"Not tonight."

"What?

"When Booker pulled me aside earlier, he said he wanted to treat you to dinner. I said no and that he should ask you first."

"But Booker persuaded you to charge him for my dinner, anyway."

"Yes."

Jet's instincts were silent on this matter. Since they were not complaining, Jet assumed he could accept this gesture at face value.

Now it was Randy's turn to look sheepish. "Sorry about this. I promise the next meal is on us."

Jet smiled then left the Camouflage Bar to face the trouble that awaited him on the Bebop.

Faye had expected Jet to walk in the Bebop's door shortly after her, but he didn't. When the crotchety bounty hunter didn't return after 30 minutes, she became suspicious. The teal-eyed femme fatale never imagined he would ditch her. It wasn't in Jet's nature to abandon someone, especially when he was responsible for what happened. Faye didn't know what annoyed her more: Jet's absence or the echoes of her pacing footsteps. The stillness of the Bebop made her realize how empty the ship was. She hated that. Someone should be there because someone was always there: Ed, Jet … Spike.

Who knew the pitter-patter of feet or snoring from the yellow couch would mean so much? Faye would never openly admit that those things mattered to anyone except for Gren, the beautiful saxophone player she met on Callisto when she ran away, but he was dead just like Spike.

"Lunkheads," she muttered into the quiet.

The whole reason she ran away in the first place was fear. Faye was afraid of being alone, being left alone … just like she was now. The gate accident placed her in cryogenic stasis to heal, but all it did was steal her life, leaving her with no one waiting for her … leaving her alone in a world that lived on without her. What compounded her isolation was being conned by the first person she met. From that moment on Faye had decided she wouldn't give anyone the chance to take advantage of her again; she wouldn't let anyone get close to her again.

She would have given anything at that moment to hear Ed calling. "Faye Faye" or hear that fluffy haired, gaucho, lunkhead ask what trouble she had gotten into this time. The thought of Spike only made Faye angrier. He was the reason she went to jail. He was the reason Jet wasn't on the Bebop. If it weren't for Spike … if it wasn't for him, the three of them would be arguing over how to split a bounty. Instead, it was just Jet and her. All they were able to do was rub each other the wrong way. Nothing was right now.

Her stomach growled; she groaned. With the exception of a few pretzels she had smuggled into her pocket before being taken to the police station, Faye hadn't eaten anything for over a day. She opened the mini refrigerator and found a can of dog food. The find only reminded Faye of who was missing. She closed the door and walked towards the kitchen. Maybe Jet had left something there.

Her stomach growled again.

As Faye walked towards the kitchen, a memory of a girl with long black braids with Jet popped into her mind. The memory stopped the tough skinned bounty hunter in her tracks. A faint smile curled on her lips as she remembered Jet's reaction to Ed asking if the girl was his girlfriend. Faye wondered how Ed was able to get away with asking such questions. She wished she had that talent. As she started walking down the lightless hall towards the kitchen again, Faye realized how much she hated the echo of her steps. She ran the rest of the way in the blind hope of escaping the sound.

What greeted her in the kitchen surprised Faye: a week's worth of dirty dishes and pots. Ignoring the faint stench of the filth, she opened the refrigeration draw. Empty. Desperate to find something, she scavenged through the cupboards. Nothing.

"Why can't we keep any food around here," she asked out of exasperation. "How hard can it be to keep two people fed?"

Faye was shocked by what she asked because her question voiced what she didn't want to admit: people left. Spike, Ed, and Ein left the Bebop … left her. She couldn't blame Ed for that though; Faye knew she was responsible for Ed's leaving. She kicked the door of a lower level cupboard. The Time-lost woman wondered why she ever gave the kid that speech about belonging. She knew she was only trying to help the kid, but Ed belonged here on the Bebop with her and Jet. The same was true for that scruffy Corgie Ein.

Tired of her current train of thought, Faye did something new: she started to clean the dishes. Her mind slowly relinquished control of missing Ed and allowed the monotony of wash (scrub if needed), rinse, and dry take over. An hour had vanished by the time she had finished. Her stomach growled even louder than before. She sighed. Faye had no choice but to dine on the dog food. The echo of her footsteps followed her back to the common room. She walked over to the mini frig again. This time Faye removed the can of dog food and opened it. Her dainty fingers fed her each morsel. Once she finished the can, Faye flopped onto the yellow couch and got comfortable.

Jet was welcomed home by Faye's faint snoring. Relieved that she was asleep, he tried to quietly make his way to his room. However, Fate had other plans for Mr. Black: he accidentally kicked an empty dog food can and it hit the wall. The noise woke up Faye.

"Huh?" Faye sat up and looked around.

Jet tried to blend into the shadows.

Faye leapt up from the couch. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Out."

"You were supposed to be back hours ago."

Jet wondered if this was what it was like to be married. In his sweetest voice, he replied, "I'm sorry, dear, but the boys from work wanted to go out drinking to celebrate our new account. Is dinner cold?"

Faye clenched her hand.

"Look," the tired former ISSP detective said matter-of-factly, "neither of us are in the mood to talk, so save it for the morning." He turned his back on her.

She closed the distance between them and punched his head. "How dare you dismiss me like I'm some child. You're the reason I went to jail, and I want to know why." Faye's chest heaved with suppressed rage.

Realizing he couldn't get out of this situation, Jet made his way to the yellow couch and sank down. He ran his bionic hand over his baldhead unconsciously. "Faye, you went to jail for the same reason you lose bountyheads: you go off half-cocked with no plan or information and you jump to conclusions because you're blinded by the rewards. What happened to you today was completely your own fault."

"My fault?" Her pale cherry lips curled into a snarl. "You're the one who told me they were small fry. You're the one who told me there were bounties on their heads. So how can this be my fault when I was listening to you?"

In an even tone, he asked, "Why did you have to look at what I was working on?"

"I thought you were looking for bountyheads." Rage was breaking through to the surface, causing Faye's body to shake.

"Proving my point that you jump to conclusions."

An outraged howl erupted from the seething woman, causing Jet to stand up. Next thing he knew Faye lunged at him. He grabbed her slender wrists as her talon-like nails tried to gouge a pound of his flesh. The former Black Dog of the ISSP maneuvered the hissing cowgirl's wrists into the grip of his bionic hand as he turned her around. Once Faye's back was facing him, Jet used her arms to straightjacket her.

Realizing her back was pressed up against his chest, Faye mocked, "So, this is the way it's going to be, big boy?"

"Don't flatter yourself," growled Jet. "I don't need to force myself on any woman."

Faye laughed throatily.

"I'm doing this to protect the two of us."

"Protect me from what?"

"Yourself."

Faye struggled to break free, but Jet's hold was too firm. She stomped her heel into his foot, but she only landed up hurting herself on the protective steel-toed boot. Faye knew she lost. The taste of bile entered her mouth.

"Are you done?" Jet took her silence as a yes. "I'm sorry you didn't like the answer I gave, but we don't have the luxury for you to screw up anymore. Screw ups cost money we don't have."

"Did you access Spike's account and use his money to pay my bail?" Faye took his silence as a no. "Don't tell me it was from your 'rainy day' fund."

"All right, I won't."

A smile of smug satisfaction crossed her lips. Faye was about to tell Jet what a complete moron he is when she started to realize why Jet didn't use Spike's money. The revelation made her laugh. It wasn't the laughter of something funny; it was the laughter of hopeless realization. She finally understood that Jet would only believe Spike was dead when, and only when, he saw a body. Her knees began to give way to her weight. Jet let her sink to the floor.

Jet headed towards his room.

When he reached the entrance to the hallway, Faye said in a voice above a whisper, "There was an explosion where their fight took place. What makes you think there's enough of Spike to identify him by?"

"What makes you think there isn't?"

She picked herself up off the floor. "I told you before Vicious wouldn't let him live. Accept the fact that he's gone and move on."

"Sorry, Faye, I'm not used to losing people like you." Jet lumbered down the hallway, missing her retort. The events of the day wore him out.

The next morning Jet just laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He knew there was a lot he wanted to accomplish, but he wanted to avoid Faye even more. Their argument left him a little shaken. He had never seen her that angry before; she was out for his blood. He thought Faye would at least be grateful that the Mars Police didn't trip over the outstanding warrant for her while she was their guest. Then he realized that Booker might have had something to do with keeping Faye's past offensives off the radar. If the Mars detective did do that, then the dinner was a second favor. The thought of two favors in one day from a man he just met made Jet's guts twitch. Jet made a mental note to ask Ed to do a background check on Booker. He had enough mysteries to contend with without adding a "good willed" cop to his list.

Jet reached for a pack cigarettes and the lighter with the engraved image of a Mastiff his ex Alisa gave him one Christmas when they were together. He placed them on his chest as he remembered all the times he told Spike how dangerous it was to smoke while lying down. A faint smile curled on his lips as Spike's reply played in his mind, "Then you will save on the funeral because I'll already be cremated."

He lit a cigarette and took a slow drag.

Jet couldn't understand how Faye was so certain. His gut was telling him Spike was still alive, and his gut never steered him wrong before. He refused to second-guess his instincts; Faye had to be mistaken.

Jet had taken an unauthorized tour of the rumored Red Dragons Syndicate headquarters several days after the explosion. The whole building was not destroyed, but you could tell several floors were no longer habitable. He only had to follow the trail of destruction to know where Spike had been. Jet cursed a few times because the elevators were not working, which made his wounded leg ache as he climbed the stairs. When he reached the top flight, the Black Dog entered into a voluminous greeting room that could only be described as the Fallen Throne room. The deep crimson stains on the vermillion carpet, the chill of the night air creeping through the fissure in the windows and skylights, the still faint acrid taste of gunpowder and explosives, and the three toppled bullet-riddle throne like chairs were all that remained of this once great criminal empire. Though the Mars police's crime scene investigation unit valiantly tried to obtain every piece of evidence, Jet found several bullet casings from Spike's Jericho941. He found a trail of scarlet that staggered from this scene and followed it all the way down to its end in the middle of the lobby staircase. As he crouched with great pain next to the big dried red pool, Jet thought he could see the faint bloodied outline of a few footprints walking away from that spot. Someone or someones must have carried Spike away. If it was the coroner, Jet knew his contact in the Mars police would have called him. Who took his wounded, rash friend from this scene?

He took another drag and watched the smoke dissipate as it tried to reach the ceiling.

It wasn't adding up for Jet. If there was a coup in the Red Dragons, how was Spike related to it? Remarkably Spike had left the Syndicate with his life, and no one came after him until that Syndicate leader Mao Yen Rai was eliminated. What was the connection?

"I won't find the answer lying around," he muttered. He placed the lighter and the cigarette pack on the night table then sat up. As he swung his legs over the side of his bed, Jet felt a slight twinge near his left shoulder. He hoped it didn't mean his bionic arm was breaking down. If it was, it would have to wait for a little while.

Jet stood up and absentmindedly scratched beneath the waistband of his boxers. Grabbing his towel, he headed out of his room to the shower. As he walked through the corridors, he wondered if Faye was hiding or still asleep. He reached the shower room and locked the door behind him. Last thing he wanted was to have another run-in with that mouthy woman where he couldn't back out gracefully. Jet hung up his towel on the side so it wouldn't get wet, removed his boxers, then stepped in and turned the shower on.

The hot water ran down his tense shoulders and back, slowly working its magic on him.

Faye had a rough night's sleep on the yellow couch. She kept dreaming of Vicious and Spike fighting. The dream always ended the same: Vicious standing over a crippled body as a satisfied snakelike smile spread across his face. The problem was that it wasn't Spike's body in her dream; it was hers. Faye couldn't stop having this dream. She blamed Jet and his cockeyed optimism for that. As far as Faye was concerned, Jet was a hopeless romantic. His belief in Spike being alive fed into that pathetic mystique.

Her eyes felt dry and swollen, making it hard for her to try to sleep again, regardless of the dream. She sat up and wondered where she could go for some cheap food. Faye thought she remembered passing a hotdog vendor on the way to the Bebop last night. She stuck her hands in between and under the cushions, hoping to find some spare change. Then she remembered that habit belonged to another time and place. These guys didn't carry cash; they had credit/debit cards, so there would never be any change in the yellow couch.

"What good are men?" she muttered in frustration.

Faye headed towards her room. While in the corridor, she heard the shower and got an evil idea. She ran straight to the toilet and flushed several times. Faye stepped out into the corridor and smiled. She heard Jet swearing. Satisfied that Jet was punished for the moment for what he did to her, Faye leisurely walked to her room.


	3. Part 3 Just in Time

The characters Spike Spiegel, Jet Black, Faye Valentine, Edward Wong, Ein, Antonio, Carlos, & Jobin are creations from the Cowboy Bebop TV series and movie. They do not belong to me.

The characters Dr. Billie Vaughn, Margaret Jones, Seymour (a.k.a. Ferret- face), Alexander 'Randy' Vanderhorn, Biko, Dan (a.k.a. Maggie's boyfriend) & Police Detective Booker are my creations.

* * *

Billie stretched as she made her way to the Pit. She had forgotten what a good sleep felt like thanks to the destruction of the Van's headquarters. Some of the wounded that were brought in that night had miraculously survived, which left the young doctor with mixed feelings. She wondered if doing her job of healing them would come back to haunt her. It was thoughts like those that made Billie hate this life she was forced into.

"Maggie, any changes in Mr. E?"

"Sleep well? It's noon, Billie."

The doctor smiled unrepentantly. "It's 11:30, not noon, and I feel great. So any changes?"

"No, except …" The head nurse looked a little anxious.

"What?"

"Seymour is waiting for you in Mr. E's room."

Billie looked at Maggie. "This is what I get for hugging the guy." The two women laughed.

Maggie regained her composure first. "I told you not to spoil him."

"Your warning came too late." Billie smiled as she pulled her stethoscope out of her pocket. "Time to see what Ferret-face wants." Maggie tried to hit Billie for using the name "Ferret-face," but the young doctor had moved out of the head nurse's reach. She draped the stethoscope around her neck as she walked to the ICU unit where Mr. E resided.

She took a deep breath then entered Mr. E's room.

A short, sharp-nosed man with eager-looking, beady eyes turned towards the door. "Doctor Vaughn," Seymour yelped, "it's good to see you."

"Morning, Seymour." She walked to the foot of her patient's bed and checked his chart. "Is there something you wanted to tell me?"

"Just wanted to know if you had breakfast, I brought some donuts. They're in the Pit."

Billie smiled at the orderly. "I'm sorry, but I had breakfast this morning. Thank you for the offer, though."

Seymour's beady eyes looked dejected.

"If I need a snack, I'll check the Pit to see if any donuts are left." She regretted those words the moment they were said because she knew Ferret-face would rush to the Pit to save the donuts for her.

With his spirit lifted, Seymour walked to the door. "Don't forget you have other patients to look after, Dr. Vaughn." He walked out the door and headed to the Pit.

The doctor went to the side of Mr. E's bed. "Other patients." She shook her head. "The other patients have been released. You're the only one left under my care." She took a small flashlight out of her coat's breast pocket and clicked it on. She opened his right eye then his left to see if he would react to light. Billie thought his eyes reacted a little, which meant he was on his way to recovery.

"It looks like someone is jealous of you because he thinks we spend too much time together." Billie chuckled. "So what do you think the odds are that Ferret-face, the guy who was here a few moments ago, is going to keep entering your room to wait for me until you leave? Pretty high, I'd say, so if you can help discourage him from doing that, I'd appreciate it." She winked at him.

Billie inspected his bandages. "Looks like you could use a change. I'll be right back. Don't be surprised if Maggie returns with me; there's something about you she really likes." She leaned close to his ear and whispered. "I think you're turning her into a dirty old woman because she loves giving you a sponge bath."

Jet left the Bebop in a foul mood. He wondered if getting Faye back for ruining his shower would be worth the effort. He concluded she wasn't worth the effort. His feet led him to the Camouflage Bar. The sign on the door said the place opened at noon; it was 11:30. Jet started to walk away, when the door opened.

"Come in."

Jet turned around to see Biko waving him in. "I didn't realize anyone was home," he said as he entered.

Randy smiled from behind the bar. "That's the beauty of using mirrored glass for your windows: you can look out, but no one can look in. Have a seat." Biko returned to restocking glasses behind the bar. Randy poured Jet a glass of El Presidente. "It's on the house."

"Thanks."

Biko took a seat next to Jet.

"Biko, I'd like you to Jet, the guy that saved Billie from Argo yesterday. Jet, I'd like you to meet Biko, our bouncer."

Jet & Biko shook hands.

"Biko's usually around for the dinner crowd. He's only here during lunch when we're shorthanded." Randy noted Jet looked a little worn. "That lady still causing trouble about your missing friend?" Randy asked.

Jet sipped his drink. "You can say that."

"Didn't know you had a little lady waiting at home for you," commented Biko.

"I don't," Jet replied a little gruffer than he meant. "She's just some woman who decided to move in … permanently."

Biko shook his head. "One of those."

"What do you mean one of those?"

A devilish grin grew on Randy's face. "I can't wait to hear your explanation, Biko."

Biko threw the blonde bartender a dirty look. "What I mean is that the woman is a mooch. She knows she can walk all over you without you complaining because no matter how loud your bark is you got no bite to back it up."

"That was eloquent," said Randy as he poured himself a gin and tonic.

Jet admitted, "That sounds like her." He took a gulp of his drink.

"Care to tell us what that minx did now?" the bartender asked as he topped off Jet's drink.

Strange words and a woman's voice swam around Spike's mind: jealous, ferret-face, Maggie, sponge bath, dirty old woman. The woman sounded nice, but he had no idea who she was, except that she was taking care of him. Whether that was a good thing only time would tell. A moan slipped from his lips as he tried to lift his head. The cowboy decided to listen to his body and fell asleep because he didn't want to wake up.

Maggie entered the room first, laughing at Billie who was carrying a blueberry donut in her hand.

"Maggie, if you say one thing about this, so help me, I'll tell the head of Maintenance you've cancelled your next date." Billie dropped the bandages she was carrying in her other hand on the empty bed.

Blushing profusely, the head nurse squeaked, "How did you know about Dan and me?"

It was Billie's turn to laugh. "Didn't you ever wonder how Dan learned your favorite flowers are tulips and your favorite food is Italian?" From the look on Maggie's face Billie knew those questions never entered Maggie's mind. "Dan desperately wanted to make a good impression with you, so he screwed up his courage to ask the one person he thought had the answers he wanted."

Maggie took a seat on the chair besides Spike's bed, still clutching the bandages she brought in.

"Dan followed me for ten minutes before he found me alone to ask." The doctor chuckled at the memory of her meeting Dan. "He really was cute about the whole thing. He didn't know what to say at first, but slowly he found the courage to ask." Billie watched Maggie's face for a bit. Maggie was struggling with whether she should be angry with Billie for helping Dan or angry with Dan for getting Billie involved in their relationship in the first place.

Maggie shook her head. "I should have known you had a hand in this."

"Maggie," Billie said with feigned indignation, "are you suggesting that I make it a point to meddle in other people's love lives?"

Both women laughed. "You're hopeless, Billie."

"Maybe." Billie gave Maggie an impish smile. "Now it's time to change the bandages or do you want to give Mr. E a sponge bath first?" Billie winked as she said, "I won't tell Dan if you want to."

A role of bandages whizzed by Billie's head as her answer. "I'll take that as a no." Billie sat down on the empty bed and ate the blueberry donut.

"You better wash your hands before you even think of touching those clean bandages, " Maggie commanded as she got up from the chair to walk to the other side of Spike's bed.

Billie licked her fingers clean, saluted Maggie and said, "Yes, ma'am! " She hopped off the bed and walked into the room's bathroom.

Maggie just shook her head and chuckled to her. "That girl is going to be trouble for the man she decides to settle down with."

"Which won't be any time soon, Maggie. You of all people should know that."

The head nurse was about to ask why she should know this, when she saw the doctor's haunted eyes. Maggie turned away from Billie. There was still so much shame and grief mixed in those storm grey eyes thanks to Vicious.

"Maggie, is there something wrong?" Billie asked because Maggie always fussed with a patient's sheets when something bothered her.

"I'm fine, dear." The head nurse surreptitiously wiped a tear from her eye. "Where should we start?"

"Start from the head and work our way down, and I do mean the head above his waist."

That line changed Maggie's mood. "Honestly, Billie, will you ever let that rest?"

An impish smile returned to Billie's lips. "Nope."

The young doctor carefully unwrapped Spike's head, then gently blew on his hair to help remove the bandage lint. "It never ceases to amaze me how much fuzz the bandages leave in people's hair." Billie's delicate fingers carefully extracted the fuzz from her patient's green curls. She held back his hair to inspect the wound on the side of his face. "That's healing nicely. I believe we can keep the bandages off for now. Maggie, what do you think?"

The head nurse joined the doctor on the left side of the bed to inspect the wound, then moved the doctor out of the way so she could get a good look. The cut was on the side of his face just beyond the left eye. Maggie marveled at how well the liquid "stitches" work. She wondered why Billie chose to wrap his head with bandages; the liquid "stitches" made this unnecessary.

"I agree with your assessment, doctor." Maggie announced. "Also it's a good thing he won't' be left with a scar. A handsome young man like this shouldn't be scarred for life like that." She returned to the other side of the bed.

Billie chuckled; Maggie called her "doctor." The formality of the statement stuck her funny, especially since it was followed by such a motherly comment about his face. She started to carefully unwrapped Spike's torso, stopping every so often when she thought he twinged slightly. Slowly the bandages revealed the healing slice that ran diagonally across his torso.

Maggie let out a small gasp at the sight. "The poor thing. How did it happen?"

"A single sword stroke from a katana."

Maggie paled and stared at Billie. "How can you tell?"

"I've experienced that blade," Billie replied in a dead tone, giving Maggie the willies. "He's lucky to be alive. Many a man has died from that blade; a few women have as well." A moment later she came to herself and gently ran her finger down Spike's scar. She inspected a few minor cuts elsewhere as Maggie started to unwrap his right leg.

The sound of the door opening made the two women stop what they were doing to look. A tall, lean Chinese man dressed in a trench coat and military influenced suit walked in. His long black hair was neatly kept in a ponytail.

"What the hell do you want, Wu Fei?" snarled Billie.

Ignoring her reaction to him, Wu Fei replied, "I came to see if the Van spared you when they were cleaning house."

The doctor crossed her arms and stared mercilessly at the visitor. "Now that you've seen me and learned I was spared, you can leave," She began inspecting a healed minor cut on Spike's left arm.

"Billie, what's wrong with you?" Maggie pleaded. Billie ignored the question.

Wu Fei smiled, completely unphased by the doctor's belligerent tone and attitude towards him. He walked closer to the women to see who they were working on.

"Get out, Wu Fei," Billie growled, "What I do doesn't concern you."

As soon as he saw the green hair and face, he stopped in his tracks. "So, you are taking care of him."

"Him who?" piped Maggie.

"The man Mao thought would be his successor." Wu Fei sat down in the chair next to the bed and Maggie.

As Billie started to unwrap the bandages on her patient's hand, she demanded "Now that you've made yourself at home, tell me the real reason you're here."

A smile curled on Wu Fei's pale thin lips. "I'm here to warn and protect you."

"Protect me?" A hollow laugh rose out of Billie. "What makes you think I want or need your protection? You wouldn't even protect your brother when he needed you the most. Instead you just stood there and watched Vicious kill him."

Wu Fei stiffened at her last remark.

Maggie grew pale. "How do you know this?"

"I was there," replied Billie with a sad smile. "Besides being one of Mao's body guards and my martial arts instructor, Wu Fei's older brother Xian, was my lover. Vicious, Wu Fei, and a few other thugs walked in on one of our recreational practice sessions. Vicious wasn't too happy with what he saw, saying that Xian had to pay for not to listening to him. The thugs grabbed Xian and held him; Wu Fei did the same to me. Next thing I knew Xian's head was at my feet."

"A moment later, Billie broke free of my hold," Wu Fei continued. "She grabbed one of the swords from one of the practice rooms' walls and charged Vicious. They fought and within minutes he had knocked the blade out of her hand and had his blade at her throat. He smiled at her then left."

Maggie had no idea that Billie had been through that and started to wonder what else Billie held back from her.

"Like I asked before, what makes you think I want or need your protection?"

The retelling of his past disgrace made Wu Fei uncomfortable, but he was willing to bear that shame in order to redeem himself by protecting Billie. Mao, Vicious, and the Van all decreed that no one should touch the doctor under any circumstances. They said she was special but did not explain why. Being a good loyal servant of the Van and the Red Dragons, Wu Fei never thought of defying their word. Yet he knew how much his older brother loved her, and he was amazed that Xian was willing to go against the word of the Van for some woman. However, he realized how special Billie was the moment she went to avenge Xian's execution because no one dared to challenge Vicious for any reason. Maybe that was why Vicious smiled at her and let her live.

Regardless of her feelings towards him, Wu Fei was going to protect her. "Because if you're found with that man, you and he will be killed."

The doctor looked skeptical. "Who gave the order? I thought the minor Dragons were still fighting amongst themselves to see who will lead."

"Another survivor of the Mao-Vicious cleansing."

Maggie was on the verge of tears. "B... but why Billie? Hasn't she been through enough?"

"Just the luck of the draw, Maggie." Billie went to comfort her surrogate mother. "Some people are born under a very lucky star, while others like me are born under very unlucky stars."

"A group of exterminators are supposed to show up here in an hour," Wu Fei stated as he stood up. "Make sure he's in a safe place before then."

"How do you know so much about this?" inquired Billie.

A resigned look appeared on his face. "I'm one of the exterminators." With those words, Wu Fei left.

Billie released Maggie and began to pace. "An hour doesn't give me a whole lot of time. Maggie, finish changing and redressing his wounds; I've got some things to take care of." She exited the room and walked straight to the Pit.

"Sounds like a hell cat set up camp in your place," Randy said as he filled a drink order.

Jet replied, "Tell me about it."

"I can't; you're the one that lives with her."

Jet laughed. He hadn't expected the smartass retort. As he took a sip of his drink, the former ISSP detective realized he was glad he came. The company of good people was good for his soul. The past week was rough, and he needed a place where he could unwind away from the Bebop. Jet felt his muscles ease as he looked through the lunch menu Randy gave him.

"Don't forget, lunch is on the house," Randy reminded Jet. Jet smiled.

Frances walked out of the kitchen carrying a tray with Buffalo wings and a burger. The phone rang and Biko answered.

"Hi, Billie. What's up?" The look of worry that grew on Biko's face caught both Jet and Randy's attention.

"Are you serious? Both of us can't go; the lunch rush just started."

There was a long pause before Biko spoke again. "Well, Jet's here." He looked over at Jet and sized him up. "Yeah, I think he'll do."

That tidbit made Jet wonder what in the world Billie was asking Biko. From the growing concern on Randy's face, Jet knew something big was happening.

The brawny bouncer sighed into the phone. "Are you sure about this, baby girl? You're taking a big risk with this decision." Biko winced at her reply. "Okay, okay. I'll bring him with me." He hung up the phone and took a gulp of his club soda with freshly squeezed limejuice.

The blonde bartender inquired in a low tone, "What's up with, Billie? Is she all right?"

"She's in a bit of a jam, but she thinks Jet and I can help."

Jet looked dumbfounded.

"Why can't I help?" asked a hurt Randy as he passed another drink order to a waiter.

Biko slapped Randy on the shoulder and replied, "Because someone has to watch the bar." Into the Camouflage Bar walked a pair of young beautiful men wearing biker jackets, strategically torn jeans, and matching sunglasses.

Randy shook his head. "She's taking a big risk by -" Biko cut Randy off with a look of fear that the whole bar was learning part of their secret.

The bouncer clapped his hands together and began rubbing them. "Okay, Jet, time to help me move something for Billie." Biko walked through the kitchen doors; Jet followed.

Jet saw Biko open the door to a closet then walk into it; he did the same. He found a set of stairs leading up and a set of stairs leading down, but no sign of Biko. The stairway was poorly lit, but was clean. The banisters looked well maintained. Jet had a feeling the people who used it could climb these steps blindfolded without a worry. His stomach started to tighten like it had in his ISSP days before a raid.

"Hurry up, Jet; Billie doesn't have all day," Biko called from below. The former Black Dog of the ISSP bounded down the stairs to catch up with Biko.

After descending three flights, they reached the bottom of the staircase and stood in front of a heavy looking metal door. The bouncer took a deep breath then said, "I know this is cliché sounding, but it's true. What your about to see is something no one outside of the organization has seen and lived to talk about. Billie wouldn't have asked you to help if she didn't trust her instincts, and her instincts are usually right about people." He turned the knob and pulled open the door.

What greeted Jet left him speechless as his stomach clenched harder than before: the smell of antiseptics, almost blinding fluorescent lights, pristine-looking walls, and a somewhat anxious Billie in surgical scrubs.

"Follow me," was all she said as she sped down the corridor.

The men followed her into a room in the ICU unit. All the lights were out, except for the one at the head of bed that had a patient.

"Spike?" was all that Jet could say as he drew near the occupied bed.

Biko and Billie were stunned by Jet's question. "That explains a lot," the doctor remarked.

The men looked at her. When Biko realized Billie wouldn't elaborate, he asked Jet, "You know this guy?"

"Yeah, he's my partner."

Looking at Spike, Biko whispered to Billie, "This guy doesn't look the type."

"Neither do you," she whispered back. "Guys, I need you to carry Spike on a stretcher to my apartment. We need to do this quickly and quietly."

Billie left the room to get a gurney to help transfer Spike to the stretcher.

Jet moved closer to Spike for a better look. This was the worst condition he had seen Spike in. That diagonal scar across the abdomen would be an ugly reminder for Spike. Somehow Jet knew Spike could live with it. What he didn't know is how Spike would react when he came to.

His other shipmate entered his mind. A satisfied smile slipped onto the former ISSP detective's face. Jet couldn't wait to see Faye's face when Spike returned to the Bebop.

Biko interpreted Jet's smile as a sign of relief. "He really means a lot to you, doesn't he?" the question was the bouncer's way of confirming his interpretation of the smile.

The question took Jet by surprised. He considered Spike his partner in the bounty hunter business, but until that question, he never had to verbalize his thoughts about Spike before. "Who, Spike? He's an arrogant son of a bitch that's too reckless for his own good, but I'd trust him to have my back if I needed the help." Jet paused as if struggling with himself. "Yeah, he does."

Biko smiled at Jet's candid admission. As a bouncer, Biko learned how to size up people from the moment he saw them. When he first noticed Jet Black, the bouncer knew Jet wasn't the type to cause trouble unless provoked and he wasn't the sort of man that trusted anyone easily. Biko surmised that Jet was a man who suffered more than his fair share of low blows and disappointments. Jet's reply said more about him than his saving Billie from Argo the previous day.

The door opened with a clatter from the gurney. "Excuse me, Jet," Billie said as she positioned the gurney on the far side of Spike's hospital bed. "Now, let's put the stretcher up here, then we'll move Spike."

Jet helped Billie move the stretcher into position on the gurney, making sure the security straps were ready for use. She then lowered the guardrail on the side of Spike's bed.

"Biko, your turn. Jet, please move."

Biko threw off the remaining blankets that covered Spike as the doctor carefully removed the EKG wires and shut off the machine. Spike's IV bag was placed on his chest, and the pillows were removed from under his head. With firm grips on the sheets and a count of three, they lifted Spike onto the waiting stretcher. Billie fastened the security straps as Biko took his position at Spike's head.

As he watched them work flawlessly together, the former ISSP detective realized Spike wasn't the first person Billie and Biko had transported.

"Jet, grab the other handles, please," asked Billie. "You two follow me."

Jet struggled with the weight of the stretcher for a moment while Biko maneuvered to take the lead. The former ISSP detective's mind raced with questions: what the hell was going on, why did Billie have Spike, why was she moving him, and why was he suddenly involved in this secret world of Billie's and possibly Spike's? He needed answers. If it weren't for the look of worry and beads of sweat starting to run down Billie's face, he would ask her.

Billie cracked the door open and peeked out. Seeing that the coast was clear, she held open the door and signaled for them to walk into the hallway. As Jet emerged from the room, he saw a plump, pepper-pot shaped woman with a concerned, almost terrified, look on her face.

"I'll take care of the gurney; you just go," Maggie said as she scooted past Billie. The doctor nodded her thanks to the head nurse then sped in front of Biko.

Unable to be kept in the dark about where they were going, Jet blurted, "Where are we taking Spike?"

"Home," Billie and Biko replied.

Once the satisfaction of getting Jet in the shower had long wore off and the frustration of the clacking of her footsteps was too much for her, Faye went to the one place where she could forget things: the race track.

"Come on, Seven," Faye exclaimed at the vid screen. "You can do it, Queen of Spades. I know you can."

A sweaty, little, twig of a man elbowed her in the ribs.

"Hey! Watch it, jerk."

The man turned to Faye and said in a whispery voice, "You should talk; you're standing on my foot."

She looked down and he was right. The cowgirl moved her foot. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I did, but you didn't hear me."

The horses began their final lap.

"Speak up next time," griped Faye. The vid screen caught her eye; Queen of Spades broke into the lead. "That's it, baby, keep running."

The twig man seemed pissed. He stared at the screen as intently as Faye, clutching his ticket.

Queen of Spades had a healthy lead on the pack, when Number Three got a second wind and burst ahead.

"Come on, Double Eagle. You can do it," urged the twig man in a less whispery voice.

Faye didn't like what was happening and what he was saying. "Queen of Spades, make those losers eat your dust."

Double Eagle was catching up to Queen of Spades.

"That's it, Double Eagle, show that tramp who the winner is." The twig man jockeyed for a better view of the screen by pushing Faye to the side.

"Go, Queen of Spades! Show them the right winner for the race is a woman," the cowgirl countered as she shoved him.

As they got closer to the finish, Double Eagle caught up with Queen of Spades. The animosity intensified. Each better was trying to out shout the other. Their hands clenched their ticket just a little tighter.

Both horses crossed the finish line; it was a photo finish.

Faye and the twig man expectantly held their breaths. Both horses were long shots, and the payoffs would be phenomenal. Their answer flashed across the vid screen: Queen of Spades wins by a nose.

Thrilled by the outcome, the cowgirl hugged the twig man, screaming, "I won!" Realizing what she was doing, she released him then bee-lined it to the payoff window.

He filled the drink orders in between staring at the kitchen doors. The bartender pushed a strand of his blonde hair out of his eyes as he checked the time on his watch. Time moved slowly for Randy.

The lunchtime crowd was bigger than usual; he was a prisoner behind the bar. That only made Randy angry. He wanted to help Billie and Biko. He didn't like how easily Jet became his substitute in this emergency of hers. Randy knew Billie would not have used someone they just met to go to the Hospital unless most of the crowd was beer drinkers, so Jet could have worked the bar while Biko and he helped Billie.

"Where the hell could they be?" the wiry bartender muttered to himself.

"Where are who?" asked Francis.

Randy snarled, "It's none of your concern, kid." The moon-faced waiter was shocked and became a little slack jawed. "Take these drinks to the old coots at Table Three." He unceremoniously put the drinks on Francis' tray.

The kid did as he was told.

A moment later Randy realized what he did. He felt like an ass for snapping at the poor kid, especially when he knew that he, Billie, and Biko were Francis' adopted family now. He told himself that he'd make it up to the kid, then looked at the kitchen doors.

"I wish I knew what was going on."


	4. Part 4 Path Of Thorns

The characters Spike Spiegel, Jet Black, Faye Valentine, Edward Wong, Ein, Antonio, Carlos, & Jobin are creations from the Cowboy Bebop TV series and movie. They do not belong to me.

The characters Dr. Billie Vaughn, Head Nurse Margaret Jones, Seymour (a.k.a. Ferret- face), Alexander 'Randy' Vanderhorn, Biko, Dan (a.k.a. Maggie's boyfriend) & Police Detective Booker are my creations.

* * *

Jet asked, "Where's that?"

Biko replied gruffly, " You'll find out soon enough."

The former ISSP detective looked to Billie in hopes of an answer, but she rushed ahead of them to the stairway Biko and he used earlier. Realizing that he'd hit a wall with the cryptic answer, Jet turned to his instincts for reassurance. Amazingly, they were silent, which meant Billie and Biko were on the level.

The silence unnerved Jet a little. His instincts usually alerted him to things that didn't seem right; Spike being in a secret hospital underneath a bar where the owner is his doctor wasn't right. The whole set up reeked of the Syndicate. However, from the look of things, Billie took good care of Spike: stitched up his wounds, changed his bandages, and, from the number of wounds Jet counted, she probably gave him a blood transfusion. At least the mystery behind why a woman like Billie was working in a bar was solved. The memory of her delicate touch on his scar and the idea of her taking care of him started Jet imaging what it would be like to have Billie inspect his bionic arm or a wound on his thigh.

"Jet, wake up," barked Biko as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Jet blushed. Luckily for him the stairs were too poorly lit for Biko and Billie to notice.

"You two wait for me at the door," she instructed then returned to the hospital.

Biko rolled his head to relax some muscles in his neck. "You ready to climb four flights?"

"What?"

An amused smile curled on the bouncer's lips. "I didn't know you were hard of hearing, Jet. When we're done carrying Sleeping Beauty, I'll have baby girl recommend an ear doctor for you." He started climbing the stairs.

Biko's comments struck more than one chord. "I'm not hard of hearing," replied Jet as he brought up the rear. "I was just surprised by your question that's all." A moment later, he muttered, "I'm not old."

"I never said you were old."

Jet blushed again. "You heard that?"

"Yeah," Biko said, "My hearing is a bit better than average. Careful we're about to make turn. "

Jet waited and strained to watch Biko as he maneuvered into the turn of the landing. They slightly angled the stretcher into the turn. Spike's sleeping body pressed up against his restraints. For a moment, Jet was afraid the restraints would come undone, but one glance at Biko made him relax. Biko wasn't concerned about the restraints or the climb up the stairs. The former detective assumed Biko's nonchalant manner was due to the fact he had carried someone on a stretcher up these stairs before.

Knowing he was working with a pro in this situation eased Jet's mind and his clenched stomach a little, allowing him to turn his thoughts to a more pleasant subject: Billie. He wondered why he couldn't stop daydreaming about this woman he just met a day ago. Maybe it was the fact that she's a mystery and he was a sucker for good mysteries, especially one with such expressive eyes and –

"OW!" Jet cried out a moment after he banged his right hand up against the staircase railing.

Biko asked, "You okay?"

"I'm fine; just banged my hand."

"Be more careful and stop thinking about you know who."

"I wouldn't have to if there was more light."

"That could help you, but what would stop you from thinking about you know who?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Yeah," Biko chuckled, "ever since the hospital room you've been lost in thought. I'll only interrupt when we reach a landing."

The former ISSP dic felt himself turn a shade of red he never did before and was once again grateful to the poor lighting.

Billie returned to the ICU room where Spike only moments before resided to get rid of any evidence only to find Maggie. The head nurse had already changed the bed sheets and was in the process of cleaning the transfusion machine.

"Thank you, Maggie," was all the doctor could say as she gathered up the bandages that were meant for Spike and brought them to the Pit.

In silence, the two women efficiently removed all evidence of a patient in that room. The whole time Maggie wore a worried grimace on her face and avoided Billie's eyes. She couldn't stand the fact that the doctor was risking her life again for a patient.

"Maggie," Billie said, "I'll be back in 10 minutes. If anyone asks, tell them I went upstairs for something." The doctor left and headed for the stairs.

"We're almost there, daydreamer," Biko remarked.

Jet replied in a glum tone, "Don't call me that."

"What? Daydreamer?"

"Yeah. It doesn't suit me."

"Why?"

The former ISSP detective was silent. He couldn't answer the question without giving personal information about himself, and Jet didn't know Biko well enough to divulge that sort of stuff. It took him a little over three years before he told Spike how he lost his left arm, and he trusted that reckless hotshot more than he did old ISSP partner Fad.

Jet finally replied, "Guess that's a story for another time."

Biko smiled at the silence because it confirmed one of his suspicions about Jet: Jet was a man that took time to gain his confidence. "Though as much. I assume I'll learn about that the same time Billie learns about that scar on your face. Now make sure you have a good grip because I –"

There were footsteps getting closer to their position on the stairs.

Jet didn't know what to do. He couldn't reach for his gun because he'd drop Spike. He couldn't say anything to Biko because he had no idea who was heading their way or how Biko would react.

Several tense moments passed as the steps slowed down and grew louder as the person approached. Biko looked over the railing in hopes of catching a glimpse of the person.

A winded Billie said to Jet, "Excuse me," as she passed him and headed to the final landing.

Both men were relieved.

She propped open the door with her foot. "Get moving!" she said breathily.

They followed her orders and made their way to the final landing. Biko carefully maneuvered himself and the stretcher so as not to bang into Billie. Jet followed Biko's lead and did the same. They entered a well-lit corridor. It took a moment for Jet's eyes to adjust to the light. He then noticed there was a door one exactly opposite the stairway door and the hall turned to the right about five meters from the stairway. Since no one had opened the door nearest them, Jet wondered what awaited them down the hall.

Billie sped by them with a set of keys in her hand. She reached her front door and opened it. As she entered, she turned on the lights. Billie walked towards the iron-framed bed that acted as a second sofa in her living room. She knocked off the cushions and pulled back the blankets.

Jet was surprised that they were bringing Spike to an apartment and knew it was not the time to study the surroundings.

Biko led Jet to the awaiting bed. Carefully they lowered the stretcher. Billie released the safety straps. Slowly she and Biko worked together to remove the stretcher from underneath Spike. Then Billie set up Spike's IV bag.

"Jet, thank you for your help. I truly appreciate it," said Billie as she straightened Spike's blankets.

Jet replied, "Mind if I stay here awhile?"

"Please do. I'll check in two hours, though I may be able to escape sooner. If you have any problems call Biko and he'll contact me." Billie ran out the door.

Biko walked over to the nook that was the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He took out two bottles of beer and gave one to Jet. "Take a seat," he said as he sank into Billie's favorite dark brown leather easy chair. "Billie wouldn't have run off unless it was important" He removed his Swiss Army knife from his keychain and opened his beer. The bouncer then tossed the Swiss Army knife to Jet and took a swig.

The former ISSP detective opened his beer. "Are things always this …"

"Strange and rushed?"

"Yeah." Jet took a small sip.

Biko sighed. He knew Jet was looking for answers to what he and his partner Spike were involved in. "Strange, yes; rushed, no. As you now know, there's more to this place, Randy, Billie, and me than meets the eye. If you want an explanation, that will come in Time. It's a trust thing I know you understand." He took another swig of beer. "But considering how Billie was willing to trust you under the circumstances, I'd say you'll have the answers to your questions sooner than later. " He chugged the rest of his beer then stood up. "Time for me to get back to the bar and help Randy; I'll be back in twenty to see if you need anything." Biko put the empty bottle on the kitchen counter then left.

What Biko said stunned Jet: Billie trusted Jet, someone she just met with such an important secret.

"Who trusts anyone with something this big so easily in this world?" he wondered.

Billie stopped off at the Camouflage Bar's kitchen and grabbed a sandwich before returning to the hospital. She didn't want the exterminators to think she left for any other reason than lunch. Too many people's lives were counting on this bluff.

She returned to the underground hospital and took a seat in the Pit. The Pit was located in between the two main stairways and the one main elevator that led to the hospital. "No one could miss me if I'm here," Billie thought as she bit into the Italian sandwich.

As if on cue, Ferret-face appeared in the Pit. "Doctor Vaughn, you didn't like the blueberry donut?" he asked in a hurt tone.

Billie inwardly sighed at the sound of his slightly nasal tenor voice. "On the contrary, Seymour, I enjoyed the donut quite a bit, but the sugar went straight to my head, making me light-headed. So I went and got myself a sandwich."

A slightly worried smile appeared on his face. "I'm sorry the donut made you dizzy. Next time I'll bring in bagels. "

"It wasn't your fault; it's mine for not eating regularly for the past several days." The doctor gently punched her head. "Guess, I gotta be more carefully in the future."

"Yes, you should," said Head Nurse Maggie Jones, "I'm going to hold you to that." The look she gave made Billie shrink in her chair like a little child that got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Maggie then turned her gaze onto the orderly, "Seymour, I need you to take an inventory of all the supplies we have and which supply closet they're in."

Seymour squeaked, "Yes, ma'am," then scurried off to the first supply closet.

"Thank you, Maggie," said Billie.

Maggie's stern gaze returned to the doctor. "I'm not finished with you."

"I didn't expect you to be," Billie replied then took a bite of her sandwich. "Want half?"

"Billie, this is no time to be eating. What if those," the head nurse leaned in towards the doctor, "exterminators arrive while you're eating?"

"I'd stop eating."

"Stop being flippant!"

Billie took a closer look at Maggie and realized the only thing holding back Maggie's tears was her anger. The doctor was ashamed that she was the cause of the head nurse's pain. Billie put down her sandwich then hugged her friend. "I'm sorry, Maggie."

"You're sorry for what," asked an emotionless bass voice.

Both women turned around to a six foot seven inches tall, burly, platinum blonde man with matching emotionless cobalt blue eyes staring at Billie for her answer.

"I'm sorry for making her worry so much about me." Billie picked up her sandwich and took another bite.

"Why should she worry about you, Doctor …"

"Doctor Billie Vaughn." Billie put down her sandwich again. "Now, I don't know how much you heard of our previous conversation with an orderly, but thanks to the events of the past week, I haven't been eating or sleep much. The last thing Head Nurse Jones needs is one of her doctors collapsing either from hunger, dehydration, or sleep deprivation."

Maggie was trying her best not to look scared, but the imposing executioner's stony demeanor had made all the blood drain from her face.

A barely perceptible smile cracked on his face. "So you're Vaughn." He lowered his gaze from her eyes to exam the doctor's body. He returned to staring into Billie's storm grey eyes. "With all the stories I've heard, I thought you were a man."

"Lazaro, quit being rude to the good doctor," commanded Damian. "She may not seem like much physically, but the doctor could slice you 10 ways from Sunday if forced." His slicked black hair shined in the fluorescent lights as he moved in front of platinum blonde side of beef. "Please forgive him. Since he was on assignment elsewhere when the events of last week took place, Lazaro's being eager to prove his metal against a worthy opponent like Spike Spiegel. Also he hasn't had his morning cup of espresso," Damian added with a wink as he bowed and kissed her hand.

Lazaro followed his commander's example and kissed Billie's hand. It took an enormous amount of Billie's self-control not to laugh at the sight of Lazaro's awkward imitation of Damian.

"That's all right, Damian," the doctor replied. "Not everyone is worthy of being Vicious' sparring partner like you and me."

Lazaro bristled at the comment, while Maggie sank into the chair Billie had occupied a few moments ago. A nonchalant conversation with possible killers was not the way Maggie wanted to learn about Billie's life.

A reptilian grin slipped across Damian's lips.; he was glad to see that the past events hadn't dulled her acidic wit. "I'm glad to see you survived the Mao-Vicious Cleansing."

"I'm surprised that you survived the Cleansing. How did you manage that?"

"That's a secret, my dear."

"Sir," Wu Fei interjected as he pushed his way in front of Lazaro, "should we commence with the sweep?"

"Yes. Zhou and Lian, go to the right. Lazaro and Wu Fei, go to the left. I will search with the good doctor."

Billie inquired, "What are you looking for? Are you so low on funds that you plan to sell off hospital equipment?"

Maggie's fear grew when she heard Billie's question. She has no idea what game her friend was playing.

"Nothing of the sort," Damian replied s his arm slithered around Billie's waist to guide her on a walk. "We're looking for Vicious' body to give it a proper burial."

"Is that all?" asked the doctor with an arched eyebrow.

"For now. Do you know where his body is?"

"The morgue."

Jet sat by Spike's side for a long while pondering the blind trust Billie placed in him. What could make a woman who worked for the Syndicate so easily reveal her secret to a someone she met by chance. Jet corrected himself. It wasn't by Chance that they met; it was the circumstance of their meeting that was Chance.

The more he thought about it the more the former ISSP detective realized she was a mystery he wanted to solve.

Spike groaned, which startled Jet. Slowly, Spike opened his eyes and started to look around only to find a familiar ugly mug smiling at him.

"So, you're finally awake," Remarked Jet.

"Guess so," Spike replied in a low parched voice, "otherwise, I must be having a nightmare to dream about you, Jet." A smirk crept across the fallen cowboy's pale lips.

Jet laughed as he walked over to the Indonesian daybed couch for a couple of pillows. "Faye thinks you're dead and has been trying to break into your room."

"Interesting way to mourn."

Jet propped up Spike with the two pillows he got. "She truly believes Vicious wouldn't have let you live."

"She's right." Spike settled into the pillows. "So why am I alive?"

Jet had no idea how to answer the question. "You'd have to ask Billie."

Billie … that name was familiar to the cowboy, but he didn't know why. He weakly smirked at his partner and asked with a slightly arched eyebrow. "Who's Billie?"

Jet understood the look Spike was trying to give him and blushed. "You know it's not like that; when did I ever have the time for that?"

"Time for what?" Spike enjoyed seeing Jet squirm about a woman.

The former ISSP detective regained his composure and ignored the bait. "Billie is… she's the doctor that saved you. We're in her place." Jet sighed, realizing that he had to tell Spike the little he knew about her. "Billie is connected to the Red Dragon Syndicate, but I haven't learned how. But from -"

"That's why I'm still alive," interrupted Spike.

"Huh?"

"It must be the will of the Van that I'm alive."

"The Van? I don't know who they are, but if that was true, Billie wouldn't have asked me to help move you from the hospital. My gut says there's another reason."

Spike yawned, "Your gut's usually right."

The yawn caused Jet to look at his partner. He hadn't noticed before how frail Spike looked. The cowboy's breathing was even but slow as if he was struggling a bit for air. Whether the struggle was from the binding around Spike's chest, broken ribs, or some other wound, Jet didn't know, but Jet did know he should let Spike get back to sleep.

"My gut's telling me now that you need more sleep; I'll leave you alone." Jet got up from his chair and headed for the door.

"Jet, stick around for a while." A pained grunt slipped out of the cowboy as he moved his recovering body to get more comfortable. "I don't know who Billie is or why she saved me, but I do know I don't want to be alone with her."

Jet returned to his seat by Spike's side. "It's not like you to be scared of a woman?"

A faint smile curled on Spike's lips again. "Depends on the woman."

Before Jet could ask a follow-up question, Spike drifted back to sleep.

Outside a teepee somewhere in the Badlands of Mars, Laughing Bull scanned to the eastern horizon. Something caught his eye.

"Has a new star been born or is it a star that has faded but grown brighter."


End file.
